


Ways in Which We are Not Normal

by a_stands_for



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bugs & Insects, Dream Bubble, Formicophilia, M/M, Other, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 18:04:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_stands_for/pseuds/a_stands_for
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first fic I ever wrote for the kink meme.  Originally posted May 2011.</p>
<p>In which there are entirely too many flies in Dave's apartment on a hot summer day, and Tavros makes great use of his psychic powers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ways in Which We are Not Normal

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Formicophilia: the sexual interest in being crawled upon or nibbled by small insects, such as ants. (Yes, it was my own prompt. Shut up.) Originally posted [here](http://homesmut.livejournal.com/6376.html?thread=6360296#t6360296).
> 
> (Today the A stands for Awkward.)

It was hot.

Dave was stretched out across his bed, stripped down to nothing but his ironic black and pink-polka-dotted boxers, sweating buckets.

_Best keep that particular turn of phrase to myself,_ he thought with a sideways glance at his companion. Ever since he had awoke inside his dream-bubble in the depths of horrorterror territory, he had been chumming it up with another member of the living-challenged; a troll named Tavros. At first the Coolkid had not been happy to receive his company. AT was extremely unsure of himself, had a teeth-grindingly-annoying verbal tic, and was pitiably bad at verbal slam-downs despite his claims at proficiency.

So he had shrugged him off at first. Tavros had been a little sad but was used to much worse treatment, and so he had taken the hint and returned to his own dream-bubble without much more than one quick kicked-puppy glance. Dave had bid him good riddance and began attempting to adjust to his new life of not being alive. He paced the rooms of his remembered apartment, toeing aside the random smuppets and laying down the occasional ill beat. But every time he let his mind wander, he found himself thinking about things he really wasn't comfortable with; namely, his death.

While standing in his bedroom he would suddenly remember the first Dead Dave he had come across, and the way his mind had completely blanked after he tossed the body out the window. He would shake his head to snap out of his reverie and reach out for his turntables, only to flinch in a very un-cool manner when he realized the memory had changed his environment and his hands were now covered in blood.

Or he would be in the bathroom styling his hair (because someone this cool doesn't wander around with bed-head,) when his eyes would trail down his reflection in the mirror to focus on his neck, and suddenly he's thinking about  _that_ and then his throat is sliced open and there's blood pouring down his shirt and--

Tavros was surprised when Dave's bubble intersected with his again so soon, and even more surprised when the human appeared before him, expression inscrutable behind those dark shades, and gave a sharp toss of his head that clearly said “ _come with me_.” Surprised, but delighted. So he followed the boy with strange pale skin and paler hair into his bubble, and a new chapter in unlife began.

They hung out. They talked about their cultures, what was considered normal and how they were different from that normalcy. They laid down some ill beats and lit some sick fires, and Tavros improved under the Coolkid's tutelage so much that Dave was beginning to enjoy their rhymes genuinely instead of ironically. Tavros's bubble appeared to be following him, because it intersected quite often now, so sometimes they would hang out in his memories instead. When they felt like eating (because it was something to do, not because they were hungry) then whoever owned the bubble they were currently residing in would summon up something interesting for his friend to try. Sometimes they felt like passing the time by sleeping, which introduced yet more variety to their lives. Sometimes Dave would sleep in the troll's recuperacoon, or Tavros in the human's bed, if they felt up to it. Other times they preferred the comfort of the familiar, and if those times came when they were visiting the others home then they learned to improvise. Dave had his own makeshift bed in Tavros's room, a pile of towels, curtains, and anything else suitably soft that the troll could remember existing in his home. Tavros had a similar setup in Dave's room: a kiddy-pool filled with watery lime jello.

Which brings us back to Dave's current predicament. The heat.

He had been lying on his bed, half asleep, when his mind somehow had started thinking about summer days, and the dream-bubble soon picked up the memory and changed the environment to match. Dave didn't like to admit it, but he didn't have nearly as much control over the bubble as he like to pretend, especially when it came to the weather. He was too used to thinking of such things as something beyond his control, and the bubble took that to heart. Apparently, it also took to heart the fact that the air conditioner of his apartment never worked.

Dragging himself out of the bed, he opened the windows, turned on the fans, and shucked his jeans and t-shirt before collapsing back on top of the covers, arms wide. A glance to the side revealed his friend, cool as a cucumber in his pool of fake slime, content to sleep away the heat of the day as was normal for a nocturnal creature. Dave couldn't help feeling envious.

Turning his gaze back to the ceiling, he sighed and closed his eyes behind his shades. The breeze from the fans blew steadily across his body, trying its best to evaporate the sheen of sweat off his chest before it could roll unpleasantly down his sides. The whirr of the fan-blades droned in his ears, doing a rather effective job at lulling him back to sleep. Tavros probably wouldn't wake until evening, and there was nothing else interesting to do until then but slip into nothingness.

The hazy gray of dreamless sleep was stealing over his senses...

Until something tickled his stomach.

Irritation drew Dave's brows as he opened his eyes and raised his head just barely enough to glance down. A fly must have come in one of the open windows and, drawn by the scent of his sweat, was now traipsing nonchalantly across his belly. The boy let out a huff of air that completely failed to reach that far. Dropping his head back down to the soft mattress, he mustered the energy to raise an arm and brush the fly away. It buzzed away in a loopy manner to another corner of the room. Dave's eyes drooped closed again and his breathing slowed once more.

Tickle tickle.

Dave didn't even bother opening his eyes this time, just brushed the fly off of his toe with his other foot and tried to go back to sleep. Fog slowly clouded his mind away.

Tickletickletickle.

Okay, this was getting annoying. He slapped the spot on his arm where he felt the sensation, but he had no doubt that he completely failed to kill the damn thing. Flies were speedy little fuckers. He rolled over onto his stomach, head propped on his arms to keep his sunglasses from pressing uncomfortably into his face. The air blowing across his newly-exposed back felt wonderful.

It didn't take long before he felt the trail of tiny feet walking across his shoulder-blades. And also the small of his back. And the heel of a foot.

Dammit all, it brought friends.

_Okay, this is going nowhere fast. Just try to ignore them, once you're asleep you won't feel them at all. Let 'em have all the fucking man-sweats they want._

He tried. He really did. But whether or not he could have endured the flies' crawly administrations if he'd already been under, he most definitely couldn't get to that state when it was already going on. Every time they moved they stirred the nearly-invisible blond hairs that coated his body, in addition to the sensation of their numerous feet and the tap-tap of their probo... probosc... their curly tongues.

Dave would swear under pain of death that he was not ticklish. Coolkids could stoically endure any attempts to get a rise out of them. Which was why it was incredibly humiliating to be losing this battle to a foe that wasn't even trying.

With a huff he spun over to his back again, catching sight of the little winged menaces spinning away. They didn't even have the decency to wait until he attempted to go back to sleep before they were on him again, trailing over his chest (and that one persistent one on his feet.) He glared at them ineffectively, trying to regain ground in his lost mental battle.  _I am not ticklish. You can't make me ticklish. It's mind over matter, and I'm stronger then a bunch of common-ass insects._

The one on his feet trotted happily across the tips of his toes.

Nnnnaaaarg.

Dave caught himself biting his lip in his effort not to react, and quickly scolded himself for trading one reaction for another. The other two flies decided to gang up on him as well, one trailing down to check things out around his belly button, the other suddenly gaining a merciless fascination with his flat pink nipple.

_Ho shi--_

It was like a jolt of electricity had suddenly gone down his body. His nipple was suddenly jutting impudently ceilingward, charged by the uninvited attention. To the boy's horror, Dave Jr. had twitched from under the cover of his boxers.

_What, seriously? No, this isn't happening._ But even as he denied it, the fly had decided that its target, now standing tall under its curious proddings, was worth further investigation. Six feet did a little jig over the sensitive flesh, and each step was shooting straight to his groin. And now that arousal was stirring its inappropriate head, the ticklings on his stomach and toes were taking a more sensual feel as well.

Dave's pulse skyrocketed. More sweat broke out all over his body. His breath grew hotter, quicker, and with mounting trepidation he realized that all these things were just making him more attractive to insect-kind. Other flies were coming in the windows, or had come in previously, and were now being drawn to him like an Egbert to bad movies. What had been three was now five, now seven. Crawly legs were now ruthlessly investigating his arms, his legs, the trickle of sweat running down his collarbone, the beads on his forehead.

_I should move. Just get up. They'll all fly away, and I can go take a nice cool shower. A cold shower, actually._ But the blood was pulsing between his legs and a tent was rising in his underpants, and for the life of him Dave no longer wanted to scare the flies away.

So many tickly feet. The sensations were coming from everywhere, all at once, and it was making his dick throb and hurt. Gog, if he could just... ever so slowly, he lifted his hand and hooked it into the elastic of his boxers, pushing the pink-on-black material down until his erection was free from its confines. That felt so much better. Dropping his hand once more, he waited with shame-faced anticipation. It was embarrassing how badly he wanted to know what it would feel like if those nuisances could find it in their black hearts to pause their feasting and merriment long enough to dance around the fucking maypole.

_Oh come on, seriously? Not one?_ He was in agony by now, his length flushed a deep red and quivering with the desire to be touched, and there had to be like fifteen flies in here and nothing! How jutting and impudent did a guy have to be?

Dave couldn't quite hold back a noise of cool frustration, that did not in any way, shape, or form resemble a whine. If it hadn't required moving, he might have seriously considered smearing some kind of fly-bait across himself. This was just cruel teasing!

Suddenly, a fly detached itself from his arm and made several dizzy circles in the vicinity of his groin. Dave held his breath, almost afraid to do anything that might distract it from the inevitable. It buzzed around a few more times until...

At last! Success!

Sort of. The fly didn't move, it just stood there. Dave raised his head as much as he dared, staring at it incredulously.

_What._

Another fly disembarked from another part of his body and flew over to join its friend in non-movement. Then another. And another. To his rising disbelief, every fly that had been tormenting him, and a few others besides, suddenly leapt to the air and converged en masse on his neglected man-meat, where they waited.

Dave stared, his eyebrows as high as they could go. Then he turned his head to look across the room.

Tavros was laying on his stomach in the kiddy-pool, hands hooked over the edge, his large eyes just peeking out over his knuckles, face as copper as a shiny new penny.

A dozen thoughts raced through the human's mind at once as his ironic shades completely failed to hide the crimson blush that flamed across his face.  _Oh gog, when did he wake up? How long has he been watching? I can't believe I whipped it out right in front of him! He must think I'm a creep to get turned on by this in the first place!_

But Tavros just blushed further, if possible, and tried to hunch down lower, but didn't look away. Despite the shock, Dave knew his arousal hadn't faded in the slightest, and it still burned like a thousand suns in his nether regions, in dire need for release. Helpless, he let his head collapse back onto the bed and licked his lips.

The troll took that as the unspoken sign that he should continue, which it was, and suddenly Dave was overwhelmed by sensation. The faintest of feathery brushes, multiplied by a hundred, was overloading his sense of touch. He could no longer feel the heat, or the dampness of the sheets he lay on, or the breeze of the fans across his skin, because whatever part of his brain received that kind of information was already running at max capacity and could process no more. He was dimly aware that his hands were gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles were probably turning white, serving as an anchor while the rest of his body shuddered and twisted. His toes flexed and curled, his legs bent at the knee then straightened, his hips dug into the mattress as if trying to retreat from the unrelenting force one moment, then arched into the air the next moment when that didn't work.

Without Tavros's mind control the insects would surely have been startled away by now, but thanks to him there was no escape from the delicious torment. Dave became dimly aware that he was making the most  _obscene_ noises; shuddering gasps and pants and broken-off keening that he didn't even know he could make and had no power to stop. His flush had engulfed his ears and was traveling rapidly down his chest, his entire body straining on edge as he could feel his climax approaching like a rising tide. He thrashed, his insufferable prick bobbing in the air as he fought to control his convulsions. His shoulders and heels bore his weight as he arched his back off the mattress and began firing his load into the air, the liquid splattering back down across his belly and chest. Still the flies crawled, and still more spunk squirted out and drizzled over his skin, until the tickling sensation became unbearable for his now over-sensitized flesh. Suddenly limp with exhaustion, he dropped like a stone and the bugs mercifully scattered and did not return.

Dave turned his head weakly to the side, humiliation setting in as he looked to see his roommate's reaction to the unexpected show. Tavros was looking away in embarrassment, his head resting on one arm that was draped over the the side of the pool. Apparently the other hand had been busy, because the homemade sopor was now swirled with a very generous amount of muddy orange. Awkwardness seemed to settle across the humid air.

“Uhh,” the blond began, the irony of using that particular noise not escaping him. “Just so you don't get the wrong idea about humans, you should probably add that to the list of ways in which I am not normal.”

“i'M PRETTY SURE THAT, uHH, wHAT i DID IS NOT CONSIDERED NORMAL, eITHER,” the troll responded, daring to look up at his face again.

“Yeah...” Dave finally mustered up the energy to sit up, feet touching the floor as he pulled his underwear back in place. He stared down at his chest, which was sticky with sweat and slimy flecks of clearish white. “Gog, I'm a mess.”

Tavros sat up as well, soiled slime dripping off in globs as he stared glumly at his hands. “yOU'RE NOT, uHH, mAD AT ME, aRE YOU?”

“Mad?” The Strider looked at him in surprise. “Dude, I'm a little disgusted with myself, but this is hardly your fault. Hell, if I'm going to be perfectly honest, what you did was _amazing_.”

Tavros's eyes widened and his face somehow managed to turn more orange. Dave crossed the room and helped him stand up in the pool, knowing by experience now that as long as the troll didn't think about it, he remembered himself as capable of walking. “Jegus, you're kind of a mess too. Can't blame you for it, though, we Striders are known for our sex appeal and that must have been, um, one hell of a presentation.”  _Damn, my bravado lost a bit of steam by the end, there._

They stood frozen there for a moment, a set of hands still clasping, as the realization sunk in that they were standing so close, both coated in their own genetic material that had been drawn forth thanks to each others actions. Dave could feel another blush threatening to emerge, and perhaps even a stirring of interest.

“uHH...” Tavros started to figit. For the first time, the human realized that he had stopped finding the troll's uncertainty annoying a while ago, and it was fast on its way to becoming endearing.

“We could both use a shower.”

“yEAH.”

“Care to join me?”

Enormous eyes darted up to meet his, or as well as they could when he was armed with sunglasses, and a noticeable hitch of breath slipped past pointed teeth.

_Jegus, was he always this cute?_

They did shower together, and it took four times as long as it would have taken them to shower separately. Also, every time they were almost clean, they somehow managed to get dirty again.


End file.
